


la petite mort

by Shadaras



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, First Time, Light Bondage, Multiple Orgasms, Ritual Sex, Sex Education, The Pool Scene (Gideon the Ninth)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25829350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/Shadaras
Summary: Gideon swears herself to Harrow as cavalier. Only then does Harrow tell her the conclusion she and Palamedes had come to: Harrow should be able to ascend to Lyctorhood with her cavalier's mostintimatehelp.
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 23
Kudos: 151
Collections: Alternate Universe Exchange 2020





	la petite mort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nununununu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/gifts).



> This story does not contain any spoilers for _Harrow the Ninth_ , because I preferred to err on the side of not knowing when you'd read it. :)

They were soaking wet in the pool, holding hands, and Gideon was going to die from embarrassment in a minute if neither of them said anything else after that fucking revelation about Harrow’s birth and also why she’d even been after the Locked Tomb in the first place.

Fortunately, Harrow saved them both by saying, “Another thing you should know.”

“ _Really_ ,” Gideon drawled, clinging to the lifeline of sarcasm for all she was worth. “There’s something else?”

Harrow scowled at her, but the effect was kind of less dramatic when their faces were both naked and it was obvious how skinny and sharp-faced Harrow really was. “One flesh, one end. It’s not just words.”

“What—” Gideon’s voice caught in her throat as her brain—or, well, not _just_ her brain—offered a set of implications that she really didn’t think Harrow would ever have mentioned. So she cleared her throat and tried again. “What else is it?”

Harrow’s cheeks were flushed bright blood red, stark against her pallor. “There’s an element of, ah—” She stopped, tore her hands out of Gideon’s, and crossed them over her skeletal chest as she muttered, “Sexual intercourse.”

Gideon looked at her, blinked in shock, and then said, “Did you just say _sexual intercourse_?”

“Yes.” Harrow glared at her, and Gideon felt the tension ratchet up at least ten notches. “Is that a _problem_ , Griddle?”

“You have no idea how often I have dreamed of this,” Gideon’s mouth said without any input from her brain, “but usually it involves less water and more use of words like _fuck_.”

“I am _not_ going to _fuck_ you, Gideon Nav.” An ominous tinkle of bone arose from the edges of the pool. “Neither will I let _you_ fuck _me_.”

Gideon stepped carefully away from Harrow, trying not to go either into a part of the pool too deep for her to stand or somewhere too close to the edge. “So, uh.” She glanced at the definitely-not-skeletons-yet. “What do you mean by sexual intercourse, then?”

Harrow started using a lot of long and technical words that, after Gideon made her simplify it for her “poor dumb swordswoman brain,” basically boiled down to: Lyctors need to bind themselves, body and soul, and sex was the best way to do that.

“I’ve been talking about it with Sextus,” Harrow said, now that they were sitting outside the pool and merely dripping instead of soaked. Gideon resisted the urge to say _Haha you said sex_ , but only because it had taken at least ten minutes to get Harrow to talk about this at all and she didn’t want to get chased by skeletons again. “The research we’ve been reading indicates that Lyctorhood is obviously achievable via the thanergetic bloom of death, but since clearly not all deaths are equal there had to be something else going on.

“He was the one who asked about why the oath was _One flesh, one end_ , and, ah—” Harrow’s face made several very interesting expressions of discomfort that Gideon watched with far more amusement than was maybe necessary, but all the words were boring and she had to have _something_ to do. “—Hect asked about the intimacy of the adept-cavalier relationship and if that had something to do with it.”

Gideon narrowed her eyes. “Did she actually say _intimacy_ or is that a euphemism?”

“She said intimacy.” Harrow’s voice, if it were possible, grew yet drier. At some point her tongue would be a rock and they wouldn’t get _anywhere_. “Sextus was the one who made the leap from there to carnal relations.”

“You can just say sex,” Gideon pointed out, because she was damp and thinking about sex and couldn’t decide if the idea of having _intimate relations_ with Harrow was the best thing ever or the worst idea anyone had ever put in front of her. “You’re doing it every time you say his name. Sex Pal. Damn, I knew that was a good joke.”

Harrow buried her face in her hands. “I am _trying_ to explain why we should have _ritual sex_ in order to allow me to rise to Lyctorhood,” she snapped. “Can you _please_ stop being horny?”

“You said ‘sex’,” Gideon said, which really wasn’t useful but also was the only thought in her head, so she really couldn’t be blamed for that. “How am I not supposed to be horny when you’re talking about having sex with me? Like, isn’t that exactly when I’m supposed to get horny?”

“I hate you,” Harrow informed her, peering through her fingers like they were the closest thing to proper black nun garb she could manage. “But if I’m going to have ritual sex with someone to achieve my dreams, I would _much_ rather have sex with you than with Ortus.”

“Aww,” Gideon said, smiling almost in spite of herself. “Coming from you, Harrow? That’s really sweet.”

Harrow groaned again. “Let’s—” She shook her head and stood. “I believe I’ve gathered everything we need in our quarters. Come.”

And Gideon, despite her instincts to being contrary, did.

* * *

_Everything_ turned out to be more bone, some blood that Gideon pointedly did not ask the source of, and some nice soft robes. Harrow also made Gideon put the skull paint back on, but it was clear that Harrow wanted that more for her own comfort than whatever the needs of this ritual were. Since Gideon didn’t want an anxious and wound-up Harrow anywhere near her face, she did as she was told and only loudly complained a little bit.

When she walked back into the main bedroom, Harrow had already put her own skull paint on perfectly and was in the middle of putting a lot of necromantic sigils absolutely _everywhere_ on the walls and floor and basically any solid place that wasn’t actually the bed. Gideon gingerly stepped between them, noting that Harrow had left some pretense of a path for her, and then said, “I didn’t know you kinked on this, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Harrow’s hand jerked, and she dissolved the misplaced blood with a scowl. “Gideon,” Harrow said, her voice deathly quiet. “If you make me fuck this up because you can’t keep your mouth shut, I will pull your intestines out through your mouth.”

“Yup. Shutting up now.” Gideon sat smack in the middle of the bed and watched Harrow move, letting herself actually _look_ at the elegance Harrow could have when invested in something she genuinely enjoyed. Normally, she was kind of jerky and angular in a way that made Gideon wonder how she didn’t hurt herself on her own body. Now, filled with passion and energy and her thrill for power, she almost flowed around the room, lankiness forgotten in pursuit of her goals.

It was, Gideon was forced to admit, kind of hot. The skull make-up didn’t do it for her, but honestly she couldn’t have survived being a teenager in the Ninth House if she couldn’t ignore it. She hadn’t had much choice about what else to put into her brain for masturbation and sex-dream fodder, after all. Gideon had thought about having sex with Harrow before, and it wasn’t a _bad_ thought, just one that she’d never expected to become reality. 

So when Harrow turned to her, face flat underneath the skull paint, and said, “It’s time,” Gideon was both very ready and completely out of her depth.

They were both wearing the lovely soft robes that Harrow had found, and Gideon was pretty sure Harrow wasn’t wearing anything underneath them. Gideon sure wasn’t; Harrow had been very clear about that too. Gideon had inspected them, because she was pretty sure that anything important had to have some weird necromantic bullshit inscribed in it, and found precise stitching making patterns that made her brain hurt to try and look at, so she’d just set that aside and put it on and not thought about it anymore.

Now, with Harrow approaching her and nothing but the flimsy necromantic cloth to protect herself with, Gideon wished she knew what exactly all those squiggles meant.

“You are going to give yourself to me,” Harrow said, and her words had the rhythm of ritual behind them. She’d _practiced_ this speech, Gideon realised with growing horror. “I am going to take what I need from you, and your job is to relax and allow me to take everything I need. Can you do as I ask, Gideon?”

“Yeah?” Gideon tried, tongue heavy in her mouth. Her body was hot and everything felt tingly. “So I just… lie here?”

“For a start.” Harrow pressed one bony hand against her chest and pushed. There was basically no force to it, but Gideon fell flat on her back. Shit, she could feel her nipples. She could _see_ them, poking up against the thin robe that suddenly seemed to be hiding nothing at all. Harrow smiled at her. “Now,” she said, hands moving to Gideon’s hips, “I don’t want to hurt you. That— I believe that you need to be part of this, just as I am, or else it won’t work. Do you understand?”

Gideon nodded. She wanted to lick her lips, but she also really didn’t want to taste her face-paint. “Harrow?”

“Yes?”

“This is a lot of rules and shit and in all my titty mags it’s more like _Oooh please kiss me there_ and shit like that and I was wondering if we could move on to that bit,” Gideon said very rapidly, so that Harrow would probably not stop her halfway through.

Harrow sighed and leaned forward, all her weight now on Gideon’s hips. “Do you want me to kiss you?” she asked, face inches from Gideon’s. Her breasts hung down and swayed against Gideon’s and sparked fire across Gideon’s chest, but Harrow didn’t seem to notice. “Or are you just offering suggestions?”

“I wanna touch your boobs,” Gideon said, which she hadn’t been thinking until the words came out of her mouth, but from the shock on Harrow’s face she hadn’t been thinking about it at _all_. “If you touched mine that’d be nice too.”

Harrow blinked, and then said, “Okay?”

Gideon reached up and gently pressed her hands against Harrow’s breasts. They were small, and dangly, and Gideon was filled with the utmost joy at being able to touch them (even through cloth), because they _weren’t her boobs_ and she’d been _dying_ to have this experience for the last like six years.

From Harrow’s face, she might never have thought about what it might feel like. Gideon grinned and gently rubbed her fingers against Harrow’s nipples, laughing in delight as Harrow let out a gasp. “Hey, Harrow?” Gideon said, trying to express how happy she was. “Have you ever touched yourself?”

“What does that have to do with _anything_?” Harrow said, even as her arms trembled against Gideon’s torso.

Gideon hummed. “Can I show you some things?” she asked, letting one of her hands wander down to Harrow’s hip in curiosity as the other kept playing with Harrow’s nipple. “Because I’ve spent a _lot_ of time touching myself, and if the point is for us both to be involved then I think I’ve got some ideas for how to have a good time.”

Harrow’s look of suspicion was utterly ruined by the moan she let out as Harrow squeezed her butt.

“Fine,” Harrow said, eyes a little glazed. “Just—ah—I need to keep my focus.”

“Uh-huh,” Gideon agreed, already busily exploring as much of Harrow’s body as she could reach. Despite her expectations, this was going to be _fun_.

* * *

“Hey,” Gideon gasped, wriggling under the skeletal hands pinning her to the bed. “Did you ever hear that some people call this a little death?”

Harrow paused and sat back on her heels, which had the unfortunate side effect of withdrawing her hand from Gideon’s cunt. “Call _what_ a little death?”

Gideon piteously wriggled her hips at Harrow, but it had no effect on Harrow’s flat stare. “Uh, orgasm, I guess, which is what I was _almost_ doing.”

“Orgasm,” Harrow repeated flatly. The slick Gideon had left on her fingers was still very shiny, and it was distracting as fuck, which is what Gideon _wanted_ Harrow to be doing. “A little death.”

“…so what I’m hearing is that the Sixth House nerds didn’t wanna get into any kind of detail about sex.” Gideon sighed loudly. This was the least sexy sex she had ever had, and since it was also the _only_ sex she’d ever had, she was mad about it. “Orgasm. Climax. Pleasure wave. Vagi-motor reflex. The big squirt. I’m running out of synonyms here. _Little death_.”

“So that’s why.” Harrow nodded firmly and leaned back into Gideon, fingers sliding into place with a firm squelch. Gideon moaned, rocking into the pressure and almost missing Harrow’s next words: “I wonder how many times you’ll need to die a little in order to make up one big death.”

“As many as you need, O mistress of the night,” Gideon said, dizzy with the idea, “I will give.”

Harrow smiled, and set herself to fucking.

* * *

Gideon lost count of how many orgasms later it was that she fucked Harrow to her own peak. She just knew that after that, Harrow set her mouth on Gideon’s cunt and Gideon couldn’t fucking _think_ , she was so overwhelmed. All she could attend to was wet and warm and so strangely soft against her oversensitive body.

It didn’t take long for her body to come again, muscles rippling in long and luxurious waves as the world washed away. Harrow swallowed Gideon’s orgasm on her tongue, and Gideon saw enough stars to fill a galaxy spiralling across her vision.

Distantly, she heard Harrow cry out too, as if she’d orgasmed right alongside Gideon.

Which was weird, since Gideon didn’t think anything had been touching her, but considering all the magic going on, it wasn’t the weirdest thing Gideon could imagine happening, not that she really cared when her body was all floaty and it felt like she was drifting in cool water with so many stars overhead. Harrow’s hands digging into her hips were the only thing keeping her grounded, ten sharp points of pain connecting her to her body.

Then Harrow moved on top of her, and Gideon had just enough time to register her skeletal weight before Harrow _kissed_ her, tongue shoving between her lips and heady with the taste of Gideon’s own come. Gideon moaned shamelessly, wrapping herself around Harrow as she experienced her very first kiss. It felt fantastic. It tasted like drinking the world in and feeling it spin through her body in lazy golden waves, and she never wanted this moment to end.

When at last Harrow withdrew, Gideon could feel the bed beneath her again, and the stickiness and sweat of their exertion, and the way the robes were rucked up around her body uncomfortably. But she was also aware of Harrow half-asleep on her chest, and—

“Hey, Harrow?” Gideon said, a weird doubling in her ears. “Why can I feel your heartbeat?”

Harrow raised her head and blinked familiar golden eyes at her.

Gideon stared at her for a moment before it registered. “Harrow,” she said, very carefully, “why the _fuck_ do you have my eyes now?”

“You have mine.” Harrow yawned, and Gideon felt the echo of the increased oxygen intake in her own body. “It’s only fair.”

“Harrow.” Gideon shook her a little, terror finally breaking through the pleasure. “Did it work?”

“Yeah.” Harrow smiled at her and patted her head affectionately. “Sleep, my cavalier. I’ll explain the rest in the morning.”

“Harrow,” Gideon groaned, but Harrow was settling back down on her chest like an altogether-too-content cat, and whatever the weird bond of Lyctorhood was, it was dragging her into dreams alongside her. It didn’t feel _bad_ , Gideon admitted as sleep washed over her like the ocean’s waves; it was just _weird as hell_.

But hey, they’d done it, and Gideon couldn’t help but feel smug about that.


End file.
